Enid Blyton (9 page)

So, as soon as the small girl had run in at her gate, Pink-Whistle stepped into a lonely passage and muttered a few magic words. And no sooner were the words said than he had gone as small as a child of six!

He looked a bit queer because he still wore his own clothes. But that didn't bother Pink-Whistle.

He murmured a few more words and hey presto, he was dressed like a little boy, in jersey and grey shorts!

Pink-Whistle set out along the street, carrying a big teddy-bear, which had appeared at the same time as the jersey and shorts. He met one or two grown-ups who didn't take any notice of him at all.

He turned down another road where there was not a soul to be seen. He had gone about half-way when he came to an empty house and garden—and out of the gate darted a big boy, about fourteen, with a horrid, spiteful face.

"Stop," said the big boy, and Pink-Whistle stopped. "Give me that bear!'* said the boy.

"No," said Pink-Whistle. But the boy snatched the bear roughly from his hands and ran off with it.

He didn't run far, because something very queer happened. The bear bit him!

The bad boy felt the nip in his hand and looked down in astonishment. He thought something had stung him. The bear bit him again, and the boy cried out in alarm. He tried to drop the teddy bear, but the bear hung on to him for all it was worth, biting and nipping whenever it could find a bit of flesh.

"Ooooh!" said the boy in great alarm. "Are you alive? Stop it! That hurt!"

But the bear climbed all over him, biting and snapping, having a perfectly lovely time. Then it slipped down the boy's leg and ran all the way back to Pink-Whistle. The little man whispered to it and it disappeared into thin air. So did Pink-Whistle.

He followed the bad boy, then slipped ahead of him, made himself visible and turned back to meet him again. There was no one else about at all.

As Pink-Whistle, who had now changed himself into a little girl, came near the bad boy, he jingled some money in his hand. The bad boy stopped at once.

"Give me that money!"

"No," said Pink-Whistle, and pretended to cry in fright, like a little girl. The bad boy caught hold of his hand, forced it open roughly and took out the pennies Pink-Whistle was holding. He ran off with them.

Pink-Whistle stood and watched. Presently the bad boy stopped and looked down at the money in his hand. The pennies seemed to be awfully hot! 

"Funny!" said the boy. "They are almost burning my hand, they're so hot! Ow! I'll put them into my pocket!"

So he did—but they got hotter and hotter and hotter, and the boy could feel them burning a hole and hurting him! Then, to his horror, he saw smoke coming from his pockets! He turned them inside out and the pennies rolled away. But oh, what holes they had burnt!

The bad boy went on, puzzled. He didn't hear Pink-Whistle coming past him, invisible, his feet making no noise at all.

And when he met the little man again, he did not look like Mr. Pink-Whistle, but like a sturdy little boy, carrying a small bag in which were some fine glass marbles.

The bad boy stopped and looked at the bag. "What's in there?" he said roughly.

"My marbles," said Pink-Whistle, in a little-boy voice.

"Let me see them," said the bad boy.

"No," said Pink-Whistle.

"You let me see them!" roared the bad boy, and Pink-Whistle meekly opened the bag. In a trice the big boy snatched it away, marbles and all, for he could see what fine ones they were.

Then off he ran. Pink-Whistle stood and watched him.

The bag felt very heavy after a bit. The boy looked down at it. It seemed bigger than he thought—almost a little sack. He decided to put it over his shoulder. It would be easier to carry that way.

So he put it over his left shoulder and set off again. But with every step he took the sack felt heavier and heavier and heavier. It weighed the boy down. He tried to take it off his shoulder, but he couldn't. He panted and puffed, and at last stopped, almost squashed to bits under the enormous weight.

Some children came running by and they stopped in surprise to see the bad boy weighed down by the enormous sack. They all knew him. He had taken things from each one of them at some time or other.

"What a horrid smell the sack has!" said one child. "What's in it?"

"Help me to get it off my shoulder!" begged the bad boy. One of the children slit a hole in the sack—and out came a stream of rotten apples!

"Ho! He's carrying rotten apples!" cried the child. "Where did you steal those?"

"They're marbles, not apples!" said the bad boy, in surprise. But they weren't. He was carrying nothing but hundreds of rotten apples! How extraordinary!

And then the children had a lovely time. They pulled the sack away from the bad boy, spilt all the rotten apples, and pelted him with them as hard as they could. Pink-Whistle joined in, you may be sure. A good punishment was just what the bad boy needed!

THROUGH THE HOLE IN THE SACK CAME OUT A STREAM OF ROTTEN APPLES!

He ran off at last, crying bitterly, for he was not at all brave. Pink-Whistle, now looking like a little girl, met him as he went down the road. Pink-Whistle carried a hand-bag, and felt certain that the boy would stop.

But he didn't. He had had enough of taking things away from children. There was something queer about that day. So Pink-Whistle, looking just like a nice little girl, stopped the boy instead.

"I've got a whole shilling in my bag!" said Pink-Whistle, shaking it so that the money jingled.

"Keep it!" said the bad boy, wiping his dirty, tear-stained face.

"There's nobody about. You can easily take it away from me!" said Pink-Whistle.

"I'm never going to take anything from anyone again," said the boy. "Never!"

Pink-Whistle suddenly changed into himself again, and to the boy's enormous surprise the little girl was no longer there—but a solemn-faced little man stood in front of him.

"Do you mean that?" asked Pink-Whistle, sternly. "Or do you want a few more lessons?"

"Oh, no, no!" cried the boy. "I'd be afraid of stopping anyone now. You've no idea the awful things that have happened to me to-day!"

"Serves you right," said Pink-Whistle. "Now you listen to me. You be kind in future to all those children you've stolen from, and give them pennies and sweets whenever you can. That will show me you're sorry. See? Else maybe awful things will happen to you again!"

"I will, I will," promised the bad boy, and ran home, frightened and worried. He thought about it the whole afternoon and decided that he had better keep his word.

So, to the great astonishment of all the small children round about, the bad boy stopped them and gave them things, instead of taking things away from them. And soon they were very fond of him, and ran to meet him whenever they saw him.

"I wish I could meet that funny little fellow again and tell him how much happier I am now," the bad boy thought to himself a great many times. "He might like me. I wish I could meet him."

But Pink-Whistle was far away by that time, putting something else right. I do hope he comes along if anything goes wrong for you!

MR. PINK-WHISTLE AND THE

MONEY-BOX

FOR
some time Mr. Pink-Whistle hadn't come across  anything to put right, and he was feeling very pleased about it.

"Perhaps the world is getting a better place," he thought to himself. "Perhaps people are being nicer to one another, and kinder. Maybe I needn't go around any more looking for things to put right. Perhaps I can go back to my own little cottage and live there peacefully with Sooty, my cat."

But that very day Pink-Whistle had to change his mind, because he found two very unhappy children.

They were together in their back-garden. Pink-Whistle was walking in the lane that ran at the back of their garden, and he heard one of the children crying.

"Never mind," said a boy's voice. "Never mind, Katie. We shall have to save up again, that's all."

"But it was such a mean thing to do to us," sobbed Katie. "That's what's making me cry. It was such a horrid, mean, unkind thing."

Pink-Whistle peeped over the wall. He saw two children nearby— a boy and a girl. They both looked very upset, but the boy wasn't crying.

"What's the matter?" asked Pink-Whistle. "Can I do anything to help?"

"No, I'm afraid not," said the boy. "You see, it's like this. Katie and I have been saving up for our mother's birthday—we know exactly what she wants—that big red shawl in the draper's. It's a lovely one."

"I know. I've seen it," said Pink-Whistle.

"Well, it costs a lot of money," said the boy. "But Katie and I have been doing all kinds of jobs to earn the money for it."

"We ran errands and we delivered papers," said Katie, rubbing her eyes.

"I helped the farmer to lift his potatoes," said the boy. "And that's hard work."

"And I took Mrs. Brown's baby out each day for a week when she was ill," said Katie. "She gave me sixpence for that."

"And I weeded old Mr. Kent's garden, and he gave me a shilling," said the boy. "We put it all into our money-box pig."

"Oh, was your money-box in the shape of a pig?" asked Mr. Pink-Whistle. "I like that sort of money-box."

"It was a tin pig, painted pink, and it had a slit in its back," said Katie. "And it had a little key hanging on its tail to unlock a sort of little door in its tummy. We got the money out of the little door when we wanted it."

"The pig was so nice and full," said the boy. "It jingled when we shook it. We were sure we had nearly enough to buy the shawl, and it is Mother's birthday next week. But now all our money is gone!"

"Where's it gone?" said Pink-Whistle, surprised.

"Someone stole it," said Katie, her eyes filling with tears again. "We took it out here in the garden, meaning to count out the money. Then Mother called us in for our biscuits and we ran indoors, and when we came out the pig was gone, and all the money with it."

"Somebody must have come by, looked over the wall, and seen the money-box pig," said the boy, sadly. "Now all our hard work is wasted—and we shall never get enough money to buy that shawl."

"It really is a shame," said Mr. Pink-Whistle, getting quite red with anger. "It's not fair that someone should come along and take all the money you've worked hard to get. Perhaps I have got some for you. Wait a minute. Let me look in my pockets."

But Pink-Whistle had only a penny and a ha'penny that day, so that wasn't much use. He rubbed one of his pointed ears and frowned. What could he do? He must do something!

Someone called the children. "We must go," said Katie. "It's time for our dinner. Thank you for being so nice."

The children ran off. Mr. Pink-Whistle went on down the lane, remembering the girl's tear-stained face and the boy's look of disappointment. What a shame to steal from children!

"Well, I shall do something!" said Pink-Whistle, fiercely. "But I don't know what. It seems to me as if all I can do is to poke my nose into every house I see, and try to find that money-box pig!"

So he made himself invisible, and began to peep into the windows of all the houses he passed. But he didn't see any money-box pig at all.

He went on and on, peering into kitchens and sittingrooms, trying to discover a money-box pig—and at last he found one!

It was standing on the mantelpiece of a neat little cottage, next to a ticking clock. There was a man in the room, reading. He looked smart and clean and neat—but Pink-Whistle didn't like his face.

"Too clever!" thought Pink-Whistle. "Too sharp! He looks as if he would do people a bad turn if he could, and think himself clever to do it! And there's the money-box pig, standing on the mantelpiece. Can it be the pig the children had stolen from them? Surely this well-dressed man here wouldn't steal such a thing as a child's money-box. He looks quite well-off."

Someone went up the path and knocked at the door. The man inside looked up, and got up quickly, took the money-box pig and put it under a cushion. Then Pink-Whistle knew he had stolen it. "Aha!" said the little man to himself, "aha! He wouldn't hide it if he hadn't stolen it. The mean fellow!"

The man opened the door to his friend, and Pink-Whistle slipped in beside him. He was quite invisible, so no one knew he was there.

"You're early," said the first man. "The others haven't arrived yet."

"Oho!" thought Pink-Whistle, "so there is to be a meeting. I think I'll stay—and have a bit of fun!"

So he stood in a corner, and then, when he had a chance to do it, he slipped his hand under the cushion and took out the pig. He stood it on the mantelpiece.

He shook it and the money jingled. Then Pink-Whistle made a grunting noise, just like a little pig, and spoke in a funny, piggy voice.

"Take me back, take me back!"

Mr. Crooky, the man who lived in the cottage, looked up, very startled, and so did his friend. It seemed to them as if the money¬box pig on the mantelpiece was jigging up and down and talking. They couldn't see Pink-Whistle moving it, of course.

"How extraordinary!" said the friend. Mr. Crooky got up and took hold of the pig very roughly. He took it into the kitchen and put it on the dresser there. He slammed the door and came back. There was a knock at the front door and two more men came in to the meeting.